


I Am Flesh and I Am Bone

by taibhrigh



Category: Blade (Movie Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, mystical elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-16 05:26:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10564530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taibhrigh/pseuds/taibhrigh
Summary: Hannibal's life has been guided by mystical elements through his dreams and nightmares; showing him different paths he can take in his life's journey. Early on those paths were to help him grow --physically, mentally, and emotionally. But this time his choice of paths might just kill him. Or, maybe, save him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Flesh & Bone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613682) by [monkiainen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkiainen/pseuds/monkiainen). 



> **Author's Thanks:** to [siluria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/siluria) for the beta and the lovely banner. And to [monkiainen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/monkiainen) for the fanmix.

~~~***~~~

~~~***~~~

Hannibal felt the pain as the blade entered his chest and was yanked out. He felt the blood spill across his fingers; knew he was probably going to go into shock very soon. His legs started to tremble and then he was no longer standing. He knew he was dying.

The blackness changed. He was running through an alley. He didn’t know what happened next as all of a sudden he was kneeling, arms in chains. He was a prisoner. He was fighting. He was dying, gasping for air for his life.

He was running again. Monsters of some sort chasing him. Then they were on top of him and there a sharp pain where his neck joined his shoulder. The pain radiated out and he felt his heart skip one beat, then another, and another. He knew he was struggling but he couldn’t feel anything but the pain, and then nothing.

Then he was bolting upright in his bed. The nightmare, more like nightmares, still clear in his mind. The imagery had been so real. Like pictures and video footage. Some showing the same thing with a change here or there; some completely different. A lot ended with him dead. His breathing was still ragged; his hands shaky as he brought them to his face before running them through his hair. Until a month ago he had been nightmare free for almost four years. Almost since he’d made the decision to pursue a college degree on an ROTC scholarship.

There wasn’t a chance he was getting back to sleep and he had his last final for the semester in less than five hours. He fell back onto his pillows and stared at the ceiling. Every time the nightmares had come he’d made a change to his life. The first time, before high school, he’d thought about dropping out, but changed his mind. He knew he would need the education for what was coming. Whatever _it_ was. And he also knew that he wouldn't be able to survive in the world without at least a high school diploma. The last time he'd felt this unsettled was right before his junior year of high school had started. He'd been passing his classes, well most of them, but that summer he’d joined his high school's ROTC program. For the next two years he took his classes seriously, and earned a partial scholarship to college.

Now though, he had another year left of college. Weirdly, this semester he had filed the paperwork for his minor, even going so far as filling out the paperwork so he’d receive the Associate’s Degree. Hannibal had wanted to be sure he left college with some type of degree and now he’d have at least an Associate’s in _Global Peace and Security Studies_. He might not finish the Bachelor’s in Computer Science but at this point, a degree was a degree and he could always finish after... if the nightmares weren’t leading him astray. 

His Nana, before her death, had told him to trust his gut; to trust the feelings and thoughts and knowledge that it seemed others didn't have. She told him he was special and that his dreams and nightmares gave him paths to follow but it was up to him to choose which ones he took. 

But these nightmares, these were different from all the rest. He’d never felt himself dying before, and that clearly signaled an end to his college life. He had a few choices but they all started with him dropping out of college. The next was a roll of the dice and he hoped he was picking the right option. With that thought, he was ninety-nine percent sure he was doing the right thing.

Whatever was coming, whatever he needed to do, he wasn't going to be able to do it from a university classroom. He closed his eyes and concentrated, letting the nightmares play again. They presented two main paths, each with forking and rejoining trails. He picked the one of sand instead of pavement.

~~~***~~~

Hannibal had hated the sand at first. It got into everything. His clothes, in places it really shouldn’t be and had no reason to be, in his electronics. Six months later he no longer cared. The tiny grains had just become part of his everyday life. The blazing sun and sand was just another day; though he did miss the rain. The smell of ozone right before the sky opened up and pelted the world with tiny cool drops of water.

Overall, he’d adjusted better than ninety-five percent of the people posted at this base. Today he was riding out with a group that was caravanning supplies to another outpost. Hannibal didn’t mind supply runs. They were normally nice, easy missions and in the area he was stationed rarely did anyone shoot at you. 

The tingle at the back of his mind was the only warning before the sky darkened and sand began flying. To the right of the caravan he could see the darkness approaching as a rolling wall of sand built like a giant wave. This was not the kind of storm Hannibal liked. The drivers of the vehicles started to turn away from the wall of sand but Hannibal knew that wouldn’t work. All they could do now was cover up and dig in and wait for the storm to pass.

Hannibal hunkered down in his seat and closed his eyes. The storm could be over in seconds or half an hour and he was betting on the latter because of the darkened sky. It was too big and he knew, deep down, that this wasn’t a normal sand storm either. The sound of sand hitting the sides of his High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle almost reminded Hannibal of rain, until the wind speeds picked up and seemed to howl through the small imperfections of the rubber seals and metal of the HMMWV. 

It was going to be a bad one. It took a lot to move a HMMWV but he could feel the wind pelting into the vehicle’s side, feel the movement as the wind and sand pushed against the side of the HMMWV, slowly pushing them across the sand. 

Hannibal sunk even deeper into his seat, and let the slight rocking motion relax him. It was the only thing he could do as panicking wouldn’t help anyone. The dreams took him almost immediately. Darkness and blood; something moving under the sand. Attacking. The cut-off screams of the dying. The warm breath on his neck, a soft caress along his spine. The touch of blood on his own lips. A spray of hot blood across his face. Sounds of gunfire. A hand in his hair; lips on his. His hands on another; hands moving lower followed by lips and tongue. He wanted it and more. His body arching as a scream of passion...

~~~***~~~

It was a second scream that broke him out of the dreams as the scream wasn’t his, wasn’t from sex, and sounded full of pain.

The window and door to his left were covered in sand and so was his left foot almost to his knee. From the angle of his seat he figured they had either sunk partially in on one wheel or been bumped into or up against something. The front window of his HMMWV was shattered and the front seats were partially filled with sand. There was no sign of the driver or the guy riding shotgun. The front passenger door was open though. Hannibal untangled himself from his seat and edged over to try opening the other back door. It was jammed. It took him reversing his position and using his legs to try and kick it open before the door even started to budge.

As he climbed out he could see the corporal who had been riding shotgun kneeling on the ground over a body. In the distance he could spot one of the two FMTV trucks that had been hauling the supplies but the other Medium Tactical Vehicle wasn’t in sight. The second HMMWV was on its side about fifty feet to the right of the FMTV.

His convoy had left base with twelve people. He counted seven people including himself and there would be two more with the missing FMTV. That meant they were missing three from the surrounding vehicles. He walked towards the corporal whose name, if he remembered correctly, was Peters. The body was that of the driver of his HMMWV, it was sand burned from being out in the storm, which made no sense.

"He went crazy," Peters was saying and Hannibal hadn’t realized the corporal was talking to him. "There was a break in the storm, or it felt like a break, and Marty just opened the door and got out; disappeared into the sand."

Hannibal squatted down next to Marty to feel for a pulse. There was none but as soon as he touched the other man he knew that something had persuaded Marty to get out of the vehicle. Hannibal turned Marty’s head to the side and barely visible under all the damage caused by sand looked to be a weird bite mark.

He left Peters with Marty’s body and moved towards the other HMMWV. There was another downed soldier and Hannibal didn’t even have to touch the corporal to know he had suffered the same fate as Marty. The vehicles were all lodged into place. They weren’t getting out of the sand without a winch and another heavy vehicle. The two bodies were moved closer to the flipped HMMWV and wrapped and covered by tarps.

The lieutenant who had been riding in the other HMMWV started barking orders and that’s when they realized none of the electronic equipment worked and the engine in the FMTV wouldn’t turn over. Hannibal leaned against his HMMWV with his bag near his feet and drank half a bottle of water. He had seen this; not in today’s dreams, but an older one. He knew what was coming. And it almost felt like death but he just couldn't grasp the whole picture.

He did know this though, as he reached under his shirt and jacket and pulled out his dogtags. He wasn't leaving this place the same way he got here. He turned so that his back was to the rest of the survivors and pulled his knife through the chain. He pocketed one of the tags and left the other with the chain that now look warped and broken on the backseat and floorboard of his HMMWV. If someone ever did find the caravan it would hopefully look like Hannibal had been among the fatalities. 

Now he just had to worry about what came next as they were going to try to get to their drop point on foot. He knew that if he tried to say anything that it wouldn’t matter. Lieutenant Shaw was out to prove himself and he wanted to be the one to lead them back to _safety_ ; and, there was something else motivating Shaw that Hannibal just couldn't put his finger on. Though, the man had always felt that way to him.

Hannibal took a moment to grab the water bottles that had belonged to Marty and their missing gunner before swinging his one pack onto his back. Then he played follow the leader and took up a position in the middle of the line as the five of them walked single file through the sand.

~~~***~~~

They found Waterman’s body about four hours later, but there was no sign of the second FMTV that he had been driving or Morales who had been riding shotgun. Waterman’s body looked like all the moisture had been squeezed from it. It changed the count Hannibal had been keeping in his head to: five alive, three dead, and four missing. He was betting that if they found Morales his body would look the same.

Hannibal checked the distance on the pedometer he carried. In this heat they were moving slowly and had barely made it ten kilometers. Worse, if he had to guess, they were heading in the wrong direction as well --neither back to base or to the drop point.

They found Morales’s body an hour later and just as Hannibal had predicted it looked like Waterman’s. This time Hannibal did lean down to touch the body. The liquid, the blood, had been sucked away by someone with an almost unquenchable thirst. No, not unquenchable, but someone who had not had a drink in years. 

When he stood back up and looked around he knew they would never find the bodies of the other three missing soldiers. Knew that if they were rescued the bodies of the four confirmed dead would be gone as well. The wind, sand, animals, and whatever else was out there would see to it.

As they continued their march, Hannibal knew deep inside that there was a good chance that none of them were coming back from this place. His only options were to stay put or continue. So, he marched on.

~~~***~~~

The sun had moved behind them before they started to climb a rise. Lieutenant Shaw stopping the line halfway up to glance behind them. Their tracks were gone and in one direction the sky was darkening with another storm. Hannibal didn’t know if this one would bring rain or more sand but he felt the mood of the others shift around him.

As they crested the top of the rise everyone but Hannibal was surprised. The scene in front of them brought a refuge and a respite from the heat and coming storm. He looked at the stone structure as what it was, a trap. Dangled magically in front of them in their time of need.

God, he thought, he was getting too cynical.

He took a deep breath and followed them to the weird stone structure that even half buried by the desert’s sand was still impressive. They walked up maybe two dozen steps and entered the structure through a large arched breezeway in the stone. It was unclear if they were doors, windows or just part of the design, but even Hannibal had to admit it was good to be out of the sun’s rays.

Hannibal had taken two anthropology classes in college --one because it would count towards his general education requirements; the other because, well, until this moment he had never been sure why. The word just came to him after that, this wasn’t just some type of pyramid, it was a ziggurat. But there wasn’t one known to be in this area, and based on what he could remember they must have entered somewhere at mid-level between the central temple and the capilla. Though it was only a guess because he wasn’t sure that this ziggurat would follow the same building patterns as most of the others.

One of the corporals, Anderson, Hannibal thought the man’s name was, turned on the small lantern from his pack. The LED lit their way nicely. Walking through the archways had led to what looked like a hallway that wrapped around the building. Here the wall went about twenty feet in both directions before another archway was visible. They followed Lieutenant Shaw through one of the inner arches and into a chamber that probably reached thirty feet at its peak. It had what Hannibal was calling three doors even though there was nothing to close they were still door-shaped; two on his left and one on his right. The back wall held a bench.

This was the room Lieutenant Shaw decided was best for them to wait out the storm. Hannibal thought it was a bad choice. He looked out through the hallway and knew it didn’t matter whether the second storm had begun; there was no leaving now. Anderson left the lantern in the center of the room. It caused shadows to be cast about but did the job.

Hannibal picked a corner, where the three doors were clearly in sight and sat down; his pack to his left, his back in the corner. He popped opened one of the waters he carried and took a few swallows before pulling out an MRE. He figured he should eat while he could.

~~~***~~~

He knew he was dreaming but yet it felt more than that. He had never met the man he was kissing and while he had a vivid imagination coming up with an imaginary person to have relations with was not among his skills. The man looked like no one he had met before, not even an amalgamation of people.

A tongue swiped across his mouth, lips sucked at his neck and throat, hands roamed even lower. He arched, gasped as a hand squeezed at his waist bringing their bodies closer. "Who are you?" he breathed out, not expecting an answer. Not wanting what was happening to stop.

"Soon," a husky voice replied. "Soon we will both be ready."

Hannibal was so shocked his imaginary lover had spoken that he almost missed the screaming.

"Always screaming, dammit," he muttered with a sigh, eyes opening and taking away the almost pleasing dream to see the chaos in the room.

It was still dark out. The wind from the continuous storm howled through the room for a few seconds then stopped. The lantern Anderson had left in the middle of the room was laying on its side. Hannibal did a quick headcount. Four including himself so someone was missing. He stood but stayed in his corner and looked around. "Ah," he muttered more to himself than anyone else; not that anyone could hear him.

There was an arm lying on the floor and Peters was the one missing. The hand reaching out as if towards the light the rest was pointed towards the furthest door on his left, as was the smeared trail of blood.

Either the hunter picking them off had gotten sloppy, was having a little horror-ing of fun, or had been interrupted. Hannibal tilted his head slightly taking in the scene. He was guessing interrupted. 

"Had to be an animal," Shaw guessed before bellowing orders that would have them splitting into two groups to look for Peters.

Hannibal wanted to ignore him, but Shaw looked ready to snap. Anderson looked shaky and well, for someone who wasn’t, ghost-white was an apt description. Probably the one who found the arm. The other corporal, whose name he honestly didn't know, had his gun out but thankfully not pointed at anyone. 

He grabbed his pack, unlike the others, and followed Shaw. All he could think of was, "Have you people never seen a horror movie! Splitting up is always bad! Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad!"

~~~***~~~

Because he was with Shaw they were following the blood trail. His inner voice was shouting at him, but it didn’t take that for him to know this was an obvious ploy. It would have been nice for Shaw to realize that. They came to a "T" junction and the blood trail led off in both directions.

Hannibal knew it was coming even before Shaw opened his mouth. He also knew arguing wasn't going to accomplish anything so when Shaw ordered, "You go left." Hannibal went left.

Once around the first bend in the corridor Hannibal stopped moving. He knew that this structure was the end and he was actually done being the mouse in the maze. If, somehow, Shaw and he made it back to a base, and it could be proven, he'd take a reprimand for not following orders.

But honestly, he'd always known the military wasn't for him. He hated rules. He was only here because of the damn prophetic dreams he had and he knew with everything he was that this was where they were leading. Him being here meant something terrible in the future wasn't going to happen.

"Screw this," he muttered and headed back the way they had come. Whatever was going to happen, he was tired of playing along. This mouse was done. Once in the chamber they had spent the night in he debated for a moment before heading outside. The sky was brightening but further out he could see that the sky would probably darken again but this time it looked heavy with rain and not another sand storm.

He paused to take in the landscape. There was nothing but sand, though at one time there had to have been more. Roads leading to the grand staircases and ramps, but if those still existed they were buried under a minimum of fifty feet of sand.

Hannibal walked the outdoor sidewalk around this particular level of the ziggurat. The structure was in very good shape but what would one expect of something that had magically risen from the sand. When he was almost back around to the front he noticed a slight change in the stone blocks. He took a step back and the difference wasn't visible, but when he stepped forward and closer to the wall he could discern a hidden passageway. 

"Why the hell not," he said, pulling the flashlight from the side pocket of his pack as he stepped into the very narrow passageway that barely gave him three inches on either side of his shoulders. Flipping the light on revealed a set of stairs that led up. "This should be fun."

The narrow passage led up about two dozen steps and then flattened out for maybe five feet before turning almost one hundred and eighty degrees towards another set of steps. He walked three full rotations before coming out of an equally hidden entrance way.

He thought he was in what would have been a normal ziggurat's temple but this room felt like it wasn't that. There were no large archways, no altars, just a design of missing bricks on two walls that let in light and air. And if he had to guess, based on the room's design, at least one more secret stairwell lay hidden in one of the corners. 

What was there was a raised floor that held a pool. Hannibal wasn't certain of its depth, but by the smell and color he knew it was being filled with blood. He watched as a single drop of red liquid fell from the spiral pattern in the ceiling.

"Guess I'm going up," he commented, glancing around the design of the room before walking to the corner diagonally from where he'd exited to find another set of stairs. This set seeming to go up.

There were more steps but less rotations as Hannibal came out of the hidden stairwell to what had to be the sacrificial chamber. This room, outside of the four corners that he now realized probably all held hidden staircases, had no walls. Stone pillars were the only thing that interrupted the view; giving each side what appeared to be three windows. There was a body hanging upside down from the ceiling, arms tied to the torso, head resting against the back of a stone basin, a small slice made at the jugular vein. 

Hannibal approached the body to check for a pulse but just as he expected there was none, even though the body still felt almost warm to the touch it also felt hollow to him. Hannibal took a closer look at the soldier's face. It was Anderson. Hannibal wondered where his partner was; so much for splitting up.

He thought about cutting the body down but he had no clue how the body had gotten up there and Hannibal, he hated to think it, didn't believe it was worth it. Even if he got it down it would just disappear.

Almost playing eeny meeny miny moe with the two corners, Hannibal chose the one immediately to the left of the set that had brought him to this level. He traveled down almost five rotations before there was an exit. The exit didn't bring him to a room but to an antechamber that opened out onto a hallway. There was some sand on this level, the wind from the storm either adding to or not sweeping off what had previously been there when the ziggurat lifted itself out of the sand. 

But all that wasn't what Hannibal was looking at. Nope, it was the set of footprints that started off sort of animalistic before changing into that of a human. The footprints lead to a wall and then disappeared as if the person had walked through a solid stone wall.

"If I am following a ghost," Hannibal muttered to himself but followed the footprints to the wall. This hallway was slightly different from others in that the wall was more decorative. Every ten feet there was a three foot panel inset into the wall with etchings and designs. When he stopped to stand in front of the inset where the footprints stopped he ran his fingers lightly over the design. 

He stepped back, not everything was what it appeared to be; he'd learned that with the hidden staircases. When he looked closer at the inset he noticed the seams in the stone were a little wider. Just wide enough to slide his fingers into.

Closing his eyes and hoping he didn't lose his fingers Hannibal slid his fingers into the narrow gap and pulled. Nothing happened. Pushing did nothing either. He backed up, looked at the wall and narrow gap again before once again placing his fingers in the gap but this time he braced his feet and used his upper body to slowly slide the heavy door towards the left. He got it open just enough to walk through and wasn't surprised that the door slid closed behind him.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting but a bedroom wasn't it. At least it had the feel that the room had once been someone's bedroom. There wasn't as much light being funneled in from the small, clearly decorative gaps in the upper stone work on the wall behind him and the one on the left, but the light from Hannibal's lantern gave him enough to identify the room. It was not as big as he knew this level to be, which just meant this level probably had access to a lot of the hidden staircases. Especially if this room was some sort of inner sanctum for one of the leaders.

Hannibal was actually betting on bedroom as there was a raised dais to the back right of the room out of the direct line of the door he entered from. The dais had three stairs and then a wide stone platform that stood at knee height and was about the size and shape of a queen-sized bed. He walked up the three stairs and sat down on the edge of the platform.

The images came. The nightmares, the dreams. The world on fire, literally and figuratively. A lover who knew him body and soul. Bodies lining a city street. Blood running from lips and teeth. Arrows, guns, stakes, a chemical weapon that would do more harm than it was thought it would do. Victims, perpetrators, innocents all dying by the two sides, three sides, so many sides warring against one another he couldn't tell them apart and neither could they. Lips on his; on his neck. Teeth. Ash and dust circling an office building. Hunters who didn't care if their victims were human or not. Hands caressing his body. Arms wrapped around him. Trying to kill him, trying to save him. 

Then Hannibal remembered he was sitting on a stone bed in the middle of a desert and the images stopped. It had been too much, too many. He needed time. He shone the light around. The wall directly in front of him, to the left of the door was different from the one behind him. There were five steps that ended about three feet from the ground and two stone inset panels that were about the same height as the entryway door. The closer he got he knew what they were. He put his fingers into the seam and slid the one panel open. These moved easier than the door and remained opened. He opened both only half way before stepping out onto a narrow ledge balcony that was protected by a waist high stone railing.

There was a slight breeze and he felt himself relax as the air cooled. He placed the palms of his hands on top of the stone barrier and watched as the storm was getting closer. He closed his eyes and waited for the images to come again, but none did. "Fine time for you to stop showing me the paths," he said, his voice resigned. He knew then the next step was for him to decide.

~~~***~~~

Hannibal wasn't sure how long he stood staring out at the vista and the approaching storm --which was still too far out to be worrisome, but he felt calmer than ever before, more at peace he guessed, but he also had this sudden feeling like he was being watched. "Soon we will both be ready for what?" he asked without turning around.

"The reawakening."

For that Hannibal did turn around. A man he guessed to be about his height and build, maybe a little bulkier, stood between the ledge and the raised bed platform where he had sat earlier. The man's skin tone was a few shades darker than Hannibal's and the dimness of the room an undeterminable eye color. There was a mark, a brand of some sort on the man's chest that stood out because of its reddish-pink hue. All in all, he looked very much like a man, albeit in a pair of stolen camo pants and no shirt, but still a man and not a monster. 

"Your footprints led me to believe you weren't quite human."

"I am not," the man answered and stepped forward. Between one step and the next the man was no more. Gone was the human flesh, replaced by a bone exoskeleton. The only thing of the man to remain was the brand on his chest; less distinctive in coloring, but still there. Then the man opened his mouth and his lower jaw split to show very sharp teeth but four were distinctive, Hannibal had seen those in almost every vampire flick he'd ever seen.

"Which is the real you?" Hannibal asked, still not moving from his spot.

The man continued to the stairs, his appearance melting back into the more human form. "Both," the man replied and this close Hannibal could still see the four perfectly sharp teeth.

Hannibal couldn't keep thinking of the person in front of him as _the man_. "Who are you?" he questioned, not even sure if that would get him the answer he was really trying to ask --who, what-- he thought he had the what part down. There was the other question, _how do you know English_ , but he would worry about that one later.

"Drach."

Dragon. Almost sounding like the English name Drake. So, Drake it was. Perfectly normal name for the perfectly not normal man standing there. Any other day and Hannibal would have said his inner monologue was losing it but today he was just going to go with it.

"Whose reawakening?" he asked, getting back on track and trying to get the information his dreams had not provided.

"Mine, Viden, and yours," Drake answered, walking up the stairs.

Hannibal didn't move as Drake stopped no more than a foot from him. "And that started with you killing the men in my convoy?" Hannibal asked, while trying to rack his brain for why the word _viden_ sounded vaguely familiar.

The response was matter of fact. "They were unimportant to you, Viden, and I had need of them."

Hannibal hated how true that sounded. It wasn't as if he didn't care, but he had no personal connection to any of the men he was riding with in the convoy. He had wanted to ask how Drake knew that but then he recalled how vivid the dream in the Humvee had been. The dream in the chamber last night even more so. "You knew I was coming here?"

"I felt the fire in your soul reach out to me even though I slumbered deep within," Drake intoned, stepping just a little closer. "You woke me from the dark. You woke this place, raised it from the glittering sands where it has hidden for so long."

Before Hannibal could say or do anything Drake laid his over Hannibal's heart. "I felt this come closer, heard its beat, and knew it was time."

Hannibal had the barest of moments to realize that touching was a bad idea, that viden meant seer, before he was, no they were, falling into the most hedonistic dream he had ever had.

~~~***~~~

Or not a dream.

Hannibal realized he was lying naked on the bed platform and he had no idea how much time had passed. He replayed the not-dream in his head. Drake had touched him and then... Oh, it was coming back to him. The kissing, the touching, the clothes going here and there. He didn't actually remember walking from the ledge to the platform. He was also quite sure that something in this place had made him lose his better judgment because who the hell in their right mind jumps into bed with a millennia old vampire in an ancient ziggurat that had mysteriously risen from the sand? Who, does that?

Apparently, he had. On the plus side, he was still alive. At least he thought he was. Hannibal reached up to his neck and felt for a bite mark and a pulse. It was a twofer location; and he found both. 

Now he was wondering if he had drunk anything, like say Drake's blood, and just couldn't remember that either. He didn't taste anything coopery, but would vampire blood be coopery? 

He turned his head to the side and saw that the doors to the balcony still stood open. He stood and walked back towards the balcony. He nearly tripped over his pack that lay in the middle of the floor. He debated about finding his pants but instead took the last water bottle and drained it of its contents before continuing forward letting the sun's light warm his skin. No bursting into flames when he stepped out. He was taking that as a good thing and now he had something to put in the win column. Because great sex was a win, but with a vampire he had just met, not so much. It was a toss up.

"Viden."

"My name is Hannibal," Hannibal responded, still looking out at the sky. The storm was much closer to the ziggurat. And at that moment he knew the end of this path was very close. He also remembered why he knew the word _viden_ because it sounded like _vidente_ which meant _fey or seer_. His grandmother had once told him their family was marked by an air of otherworldliness and attitude. That every few generations someone was born with the ability to walk the paths. To see what others didn't want to see and maybe even help the darkness see a little light. But more importantly to seek what had been taken from them.

Hannibal continued up the stairs until he was standing on the balcony. He placed his hands on the stone railing and looked up at the sky and said, "I need to see it. All of it. To see what this place truly is and then I will choose."

~~~

A figure in a dark robe stood out on the sand, stood at the center of what would be the ziggurat. There were no discernible features to mark the individual as man or woman. Workers moved around the figure both as if it was there and was not. One stone layer became two and then three and stairs began to form. The sky changed and lightning burst across the sky but the workers continued. A whisper of a name, La Magra, the Blood God. But it was a half truth. The workers continue to work. The robed figure continued to watch. Then one day, the figure stepped into the center of the ziggurat and the lightning once again came but this time it struck the figure. The workers, felt loss and pain. Some climbed up to the center and cut their own throats or wrists, blood soaking into the stones, bodies joining the robed figure as they fell into the center. Others continued to work. Months pass. Years. The temple was finished. Water from wells filled basins along a tree lined road. It was almost an oasis.

Just before the first rainstorm after the ziggurat was completed a man was sacrificed. His body hung feet first over the gathering well. His throat slashed, his blood running down the stone basin and spiraling into the well. When the well was filled with both blood and water it was released spiraling into the furthest reaches of the structure. During the next storm a young woman appeared at the top of the grand staircase, her skin covered in blood and beside her walked a young boy covered in sand and blood. They both bore a mark on their chests. As they moved the blood and sand seemed to soak into their skin. To move under their skin.

The boy grew from child to man. The boy grew hungry and the woman found him the food his body needed to grow. The people of the area bowed to them both. Bowed to the blood child of the temple as their king. He was a strong warrior, protecting them from invaders but soft of heart often leaving the non-combatants alive even as he fed from the defeated soldiers. Some blamed the woman for their king's weakness. The woman slowly grew old, black hair fading into gray even as the king's appearance never changed. The ziggurat's twelve priests waited until the blood king went out to defend their lands again and murdered the old woman. Drank her blood. Her body withered, it was left without a care near the stone basin.

They felt power course through them. Felt stronger, faster. Felt a hunger that was only sated with blood. Felt the need to feed from the people around them. Then they felt it, the burn of the first rays of the sun. Their skin bubbled and burned. They hid inside the ziggurat and only ventured out between dusk and dawn. They destroyed the civilization around them with their greed for more power and blood. The sand and ziggurat soaked with the blood of those who had died because they were of no use. The priests soon believed that they would only need the blood king to protect them during the day. Though some didn't even believe that as the people around them would swear loyalty to them for protection. Would bring them others to feed on. The priests named those people as familiar and raised their status. They fed some of these selected few their blood. Made more of themselves.

When the blood king returned there was nothing of what he left. He grieved the loss of the one he thought of as mother. Her body falling to ash as he cradled it. His sword cut down the creatures the priests had made but the priests themselves fled, running into the night, running in different directions. He turned on his own soldiers --the ones that he had freely given his own blood to-- but they stood, blocking his path and protecting the few humans that had remained. The sight gave the blood king pause. He looked out at all that laid around him and then turned back towards his home. But before turning towards the ziggurat, he ordered them away, to leave before he slaughtered them all.

The blood child stood at the very top of the ziggurat and for the first time cried. The sand shifted, the storms came, rain washed the blood through the ziggurat. The child howled out his loss, his pain, his grief. The lightning came.

The blood child heard her voice one last time. "Sleep my child. This place will see you through your rest. You must be ready to listen. When you wake the path you choose will not just be yours. Listen for the soul that will wake your heart."

~~~

Hannibal tried to pull back but something lightly grabbed ahold of him and told him to stay. That there was more that he needed to see.

~~~

The priests scattered far and wide. They made more of themselves. Kept in the dark. Became something close to the vampires of books and movies. Prayed on humans. Kept some as prized pets and others as only food. Each individual priest became a fountainhead --the patron of a House. Over time some Houses were lost while others thrived. Some went insane. Some hid in the dark seeking more and more power. Humans rose up against them. Neither side truly winning. Hunters.

Not all the hunters were human though but there was only so much one of Drake's soldiers could do alone when so few vampires remembered their king. Some of his soldiers fell in battle. Some from loneliness. Over time his soldiers learned they could create a companion if that person's soul was touched by the fey and a true bond could be forged --always freely given and never taken. What had been almost fifty strong though was now little more than twenty. And a few of those, as time moved forward, had followed their king into slumber.

One among the vampires rose up, trying to mix science and myth and created a _daywalker_ \--something neither vampire or human. In the end, this vampire's rise to power brought him to his own end. Leaving a power vacuum that was being filled with crazy. And a daywalker walking a very fine line.

~~~

This time Hannibal pulled away, letting go of the railing and taking several steps back. So, the ziggurat _was_ a little sentient or something. Awesome. He'd asked to see because he thought it would help him focus and maybe asking had made it clearer to see. Maybe the ziggurat liked him. For now, the whole _possible sentient building_ was going with the rest of the stuff that was piling up to deal with later. He turned around to face Drake. And knew the exoskeleton was not bone but the sand and blood his body had absorbed when he was a child. Hannibal knew now that _vampires_ walked the earth and the man standing in front of him was their king; but he also knew that Drake would easily dispatch them for simply being _born_ of stolen blood.

"I'm sorry about your mother," he apologized and then wondered if bringing that up was a good thing or not.

Drake did not answer immediately and Hannibal now wished he'd put on pants because if there was going to be a confrontation he wanted to die with pants on. Granted Drake was not dressed either and Hannibal was having a hard time thinking straight, and then he felt it, as if something was brushing against him. Stop it, he thought at the ziggurat. Damn pushy, haunted, sentient, apparently voyeuristic building. _You just showed me it has to be freely given so stop pushing._

Hannibal was almost positive he felt the very stone he was standing on sigh in frustration.

"I have walked in the shadows of the men," Drake said, walking to stand within inches of him, "of their dreams and nightmares, as they come to this temple looking for riches. I have taken their blood without care because none was the one she had promised. I believed for a while that I had thought her last words to me were nothing more than false hope on my part. And even that, I was slowly losing my hold on. A few years from now I know that there would be no belief in them. That I would no longer care about any of it. And if someone managed to wake me..."

Hannibal put his hand over Drake's heart, over the mark of the blood king and Drake stopped talking. Hannibal had seen that path years ago. He just hadn't known the dark shadowy beast had been Drake or that the other creatures were vampires. It, like many other paths, had too many forks to truly follow but in the ones he had seen, humankind would have a rough time of it. In only a few did the vampires suffer as much or more death.

"But I am here now," Hannibal stated. "Though, what you do, what you become is still up to you. Will you stay in the darkness and shadows destroying or will you fix your people?"

"But you are here," Drake agreed. "You are my light."

Hannibal laughed. "Perhaps," he conceded, slightly. "But I'm not all of it. There was life and light in the little boy and the man he grew into."

Drake made a noise that was almost a growl and turned away. "They killed that light. Drained it dry until it was a husk that turned to dust with my very touch. And now I'm returning the gesture."

"What do the men in my," Hannibal stopped in mid-sentence. It wasn't possible, but then again, he was standing in a sentient building. "They are mortal descendents of the priests, the ones that turned on you, aren't they? This place brought them here."

"To be judged to see if they are like those who betrayed me. The taint is there in all but one. He has already been let go."

Hannibal couldn't disagree with the taint comment; he had felt something off about everyone but the missing driver of the first FMTV truck. The kid, Corporal James "call me Jimmy" Grant, had been young, naive, and too polite for his own good; or maybe in this case, not, as it meant he was probably alive and hopefully back at base. He had come for all the right reasons and had not let being here change that. As for the rest, Hannibal had passed it off as soldiers who had been out in the desert too long. But he also knew the gunner on his Humvee had been ready to let the guns go loose; had been hoping for it. 

There was no need to worry on that now though as Hannibal knew that since the bloodbath long ago, no one who came to this ziggurat had escaped with their lives. Well, maybe he would, but that had yet to be determined and he also knew that if he did he would be forever changed.

If Drake left here, left this hidden place, what would happen? What would Drake become? What would happen to the ziggurat? Would it sink back into the sands? Would it crumble? And if it really was sentient then would it be alone?

The bottom of Hannibal's feet tingled as if someone had just tried to tickle him. 

"What do you want Drake?" Hannibal asked, ignoring everything else for the moment. He took a hold of Drake's arm and turned him back towards him.

"You."

Hannibal rolled his eyes. He hadn't meant to but the answer just deserved it. "Yes," he stated, not hiding the exasperation. "I got that much. Let's try this a different way. Do you want to stay here, just you and me, alone?" He almost added, _and with the ziggurat bringing us what we need_ but thankfully didn't, because he honestly didn't know what that would mean.

Drake tilted his slightly. "We would not be able to survive here alone."

Gratefully, his sigh was not audible. Hannibal realized that just because Drake spoke English, probably having learning it through the ziggurat's, umm, victims, did not mean that everything was translating.

"The world is a much larger place," he started, "than when this place thrived. I was born in a country that had yet to be discovered. That is an ocean away and cannot be reached by foot alone." Hannibal waved his hand to indicate where they stood. "And, I do not believe for one moment that the remaining priests, if they still live, would ever willingly step near this place again."

"I will see them dead."

Well, Hannibal thought, that was sort of an answer.

"You will help me, Viden, help me hunt them down," Drake continued. "Destroy them and those they made. You see inside of us. You will know who should no longer be. And you will help me find those that I created and wronged and make it right." Drake reached out and placed his hand over Hannibal's heart. "You will be my heart. This place will always be with us. Our path will be one. You are mine just as she said."

Hannibal needed a little clarification, but he was almost positive he knew. Deep into his soul he knew what was being said. He was trying to formulate a question but Drake was apparently on a roll.

"You are the other half my soul."

And the strange thing was, Hannibal didn't feel constricted or pressured into believing that sentiment was true. He knew it was. Felt that there was a bond between him and Drake that had always been there just separated by time. "I... oh."

His grandmother had said someone was born every few generations. She hadn't meant _someone_ in the grand scheme of their family, she had meant him specifically. It was like a floodgate opened and he could see a dozen past lives. And in each life, just out of the corner of his eye he could see a person -- sometimes the same person and sometimes not-- and he knew they were one of Drake's chosen hoping that their King would return. Hoping that he was their King's true bondmate, but the path always had to be the one of his choosing.

"Are you mine?" Hannibal asked, because he wasn't going into anything unless they were equals in this relationship. "Are my enemies, yours? Will you protect those I call friend?"

If Drake answered him, Hannibal didn't hear it above the ringing in his ears and the pain that was spreading across his back and center. He glanced down and saw red staining his chest. He'd been shot, shouldn't he have heard that? And with that realization he felt himself falling. His thoughts were all muddled. But for some reason he focused on the fact that he really was going to die without pants on. And how perfect was that? He came into the world naked and he was leaving it that way. He could feel himself floating, his essence pulling away from his body even as he tried to hold on. Without him, Drake's path was set. The other man would not wait for this chance again; would not go back into slumber. The world would never be the same, Hannibal could see this. There would be death and destruction.

Hannibal floated. He'd never died before so he didn't know if that was normal, but he floated. He wasn't even sure if he was actively breathing but he definitely knew that he was thinking. Maybe this was his last moment and it just seemed long and drawn out. Which, now that he had a chance to stop and think for a moment, how had he forgotten about Shaw? And what's his name, the other corporal that had gone off with Anderson, but Anderson was dead. Was the corporal, had he missed him hanging about as well? Hannibal cringed at that thought, seeing as how he had found Anderson.

But none of that really mattered, he was floating and it was so peaceful. He wondered if he was breathing. He thought he was but shouldn't it be labored, he had been shot? Then his thoughts shifted, was it dark where he was or were his eyes closed? Was he floating on air? On water? No, he was floating in something heavier that water, warm too.

There was a moment of panic, but then it subsided. He felt the ziggurat touch him, embrace him, and he understood. This place wasn't truly alive, more like haunted by Drake's mother. She had been the robed figure. She had never truly been human, and very young, when her people had begun leaving this realm as humanity spread. Then she was alone and had wanted a child. A child who would live in this world even as it changed around him or her. Who would find love and people. She had traded her eternal life for the child of her heart; had used almost all of her gifts to create this place. It had sealed the La Magra from returning to this realm, but it had worked. She had traded her chance to go with the rest of her people but she would live a long life with her son. Could see that he would not be alone. That a lover, a soulmate, would come. Someone who could temper and balance him. She would be there for them. At least until it was stolen from her and things had gone off course. It had taken millennia but the course had finally self-corrected. 

When they left, the ziggurat would disappear back into the sand from whence it had come and Drake's mother would finally have her peace; and her well deserved rest. Her abilities having been stretched trying to keep her son from fully waking until it was time. Now though, her son was no longer alone. No longer crazed or grieving. He would be more at peace, like the King he had once been, because Hannibal was finally there.

Hannibal wasn't sure that was true. He was dying, wasn't he? He felt the pull of something, something wonderful. Something strong and beautiful and dangerous. Calming but also disconcerting. A new path, one he hadn't seen before. He wanted to follow it, rush down it to see where it would lead. The fire it brought to his soul felt hot, embracing, but not burning.

"Soon," a husky voice reminded him. "Soon we will both be ready for the reawakening."

He felt himself relax, letting it all go, accepting what was happening around and to him. He understood now. Knew what he was floating in and it didn't frighten him. He was ready. His soul had been waiting for the right moment in time when all the paths would lead here.

~~~***~~~

Hannibal jerked upright from his prone position. It was time. Rivulets of red liquid rolled down his chest. His short spiky hair was tinted red. His vision also tinged red as he looked around the darkened room. He could smell the ozone in the air as the storm closed in, but the scent of fear was even closer. He could feel the warmth of the air moving around, and the fact that the room was barely lit didn't matter as he could clearly see and feel three other people in the room. He felt the sand moving under his skin and an incredible growing hunger.

He stood, still naked as he had been; the liquid came to just below his knees. There was a frightened gasp to his right even as he heard someone struggle to his left. His head tilted as he looked inside the man who stood to his right. He was afraid, that was good, he deserved that. He could see this man's life; could see that before coming to this desert he had destroyed his family --transferring the money from his accounts to a foreign bank and leaving his wife and children basically homeless. Then not hours before they had left the base he had sold half the relief supplies they were supposed to be carrying to others and loaded useless items and empty boxes onto the truck. 

Hannibal moved; faster than he ever had before. One moment he was standing there and the next he was across the room and the man's blood was flowing into his mouth. The thought to be disgusted never happened as he swallowed the warm liquid. He drank until he felt the body dry out --like the bodies in the desert, the thought floated through his consciousness ever so briefly. 

He was ignoring everything around him as he dropped the body and looked down at himself. The blood water that he had left still colored his skin but so did the sand that had been mixed in. He felt the last grains of the sand sink into his skin, becoming a part of him. He lifted his hand and watched his skin ripple and harden, becoming like bone. He reached out and touched the wall of the ziggurat letting it, letting her, know that Drake would never be alone again. That's when the yelling and cursing finally invaded his senses.

"You picked that piece of human trash! What a fucking waste! You will fail!"

Hannibal turned, but found only Drake standing there next to him. Waiting. He lifted his hand, watching it become flesh again so he could caress his fingertips across Drake's cheek before bringing their lips together for a kiss. He felt an incredible yearning with that kiss; felt the devotion and love that was to come.

Shaw continued to yell and scream. Hannibal heard him call Drake Drach. And then King. So Shaw knew his family's past; knew where he came from and what some of his ancestors were. Knew what his family had sold their souls for. He might be useful, Hannibal thought as he pulled away from Drake's embrace and approached the man that was hobbled against the far wall.

Hannibal could feel the jealousy rolling off Shaw. Could feel the want and need for power. Shaw opened his mouth to speak or scream again but Hannibal placed his index finger against Shaw's lips. "I don't need you to speak," Hannibal warned, not knowing his eyes were now glowing with power. A power that prevented Shaw from speaking or moving. "I can clearly see your thoughts and desires." Hannibal tilted his head before grinning at the other man. "And none of them are important now. You will not be one of his. You are not worthy."

And Shaw wasn't. Hannibal could see how Shaw's family operated. Military training, an heir or two to carry on the original bloodline, a few years as a loyal human soldier and then, if he was the best, the transformation was granted. The ones that weren't the best continued to serve or were sold into feeding houses --especially the wives or husbands that were no longer necessary after an heir had been born. 

Hannibal could see all that Shaw knew; from the House system borne out of each priest's line, to the blood and feeding houses that were filled with humans who not all were willing volunteers trying to become vampires; he could see all the way to the belief that they could bring LaMagra --not knowing who or what it really was-- back, and even to the votes to not raise their King even as the human hunters grew in numbers.

The old priests, the ones that still lived and hadn't yet been replaced by someone else from their House rarely met in person because of long-forgotten blood feuds. This, they would be able to use against them. And Hannibal now knew where each House called home. 

Hannibal looked away from Shaw. "What do you see when you look at him?" he asked Drake.

"What you see," Drake answered, moving to stand at Hannibal's back; close enough that they were almost leaning into one another. "You are my eyes into the truth. Into their hearts, minds, perhaps even their souls."

Hannibal felt his body warm, felt it react to Drake's closeness and thoughts. He wanted what was his, but first he had to deal with the matter at hand. He turned back to look at Shaw again. He was trying to see if there was anything worth saving, but Hannibal knew there wasn't; had known since first meeting the man on base months ago that there was something not right with him. The man had given up all the knowledge and secrets he had and in some respects Hannibal wished he hadn't been able to see as much as he had. When Hannibal had touched Shaw he had seen path after path that showed Shaw always becoming something worse than the priest he was descended from. 

"He's told me all that is important and he is not what we seek for our people."

"Together," Drake suggested.

"Together," Hannibal agreed.

Hannibal figured Shaw only had seconds to realize what that meant before both of them were draining him of his life. It didn't take long before the dried husk fell to the ground between them, Hannibal switched his focus to Drake's lips and his neck. The air around them was heated. Passion and need came with each breath, with each taste.

They moved together back to the rooms above. To the bed platform. Drake was his and it was time that Hannibal proved it. He backed Drake into the platform and laid him out. Taking from them both; giving into desires, needs, and absolute pleasure. The claiming of his soulmate was about both of them. Hannibal wasn't above admitting that he liked the feeling of pleasure as his prostate was stroked continuously, but he enjoyed the thoughts and sounds that Drake made as he returned the favor.

Time meant nothing as they moved together. As their minds and bodies opened to one another. With a loud shout of pleasure that took them both, their union was complete. Their souls were now bound to one another and for the first time Hannibal knew a part of him had always been missing but would never be again. He felt whole, felt stronger. But also, knew that while his soul was bound to another he was still his own person. 

He felt himself relax, knowing they would both need sleep, for soon they would need to leave here.

~~~***~~~

Hannibal woke when he felt the hair on his arms rise. The pressure in the air was changing. He turned his head to look out through the balcony doors. The storm had started. It was time.

It was like that single thought strengthened the storm. He moved to stand, knowing that Drake could feel it as well. They both went to the pool that was now clear of blood and sand. The spiral in the ceiling was pouring in rain water. Hannibal approached the shower of water and put his hand under the fall, feeling the clear water run over his fingers. He cupped his hand and brought the water to his lips. It tasted crisp and cool. He took another drink before moving his whole body to stand underneath it. He felt the past few days wash from his skin. Drake took his place when he stepped out from under the fall.

By the time they walked back to the sleeping chamber they were both dry. They dressed in silence. It was time. Hannibal could feel it. The storm would be over soon and this place would be no more.

As the door to the sleeping chamber slid shut behind them Hannibal touched the solid wall next to it. "I will take care of him," he assured. "I promise."

He felt the place settle. Felt it at peace, and felt the joy that came from ziggurat's ghost as her son had found his soulmate and could now move on from this place. Could leave the death and destruction, the hurt and sadness behind. It was time for him to reclaim what was rightly his.

Together he and Drake walked down the stairs of the ziggurat. They had walked less than a quarter of a kilometer when they felt the ground rumble, felt the sand around them moving. They turned back towards the ziggurat to see it slowly sliding back into the depths of the sand it had risen from. A cloaked figure sat on the top step. It bowed its head slightly before fading from view. Moments later, what remained of the ziggurat turned to dust and sand. It swirled ever so briefly through the air before settling on the desert floor. It was gone, never to rise again.

Hannibal felt sadness from Drake. He took Drake's hand and wrapped his own around it before bringing them to rest on Drake's chest. "She will always be with you," he comforted softly. "But it was time for her to be at peace. She has watched over you for a long time, waiting for me to come. She deserves her rest." Hannibal almost stopped there but changed his mind. "And you," he leaned in to kiss Drake, "have waited long enough to live."

~~~***~~~

Getting back to civilization should have been hard, but strangely after crossing only a few kilometers of desert on foot they came upon a really nice rough terrain vehicle. Something built to withstand the temperatures but to offer a luxurious ride to the passengers inside. In was not an inconspicuous vehicle --red so dark it was almost black in his shadow and the darkest of tints on the windows that he had ever seen.

From the sand that still rested across the top of the vehicle Hannibal guessed it had been mostly covered in sand until a few hours ago. He glanced back to where the ziggurat would have been before reaching out to touch the hood of the vehicle. The owner or owners were nowhere in sight and now he knew why.

A scout for the Talos family. Two, actually, a human and a vampire. Which explained the heavily tinted windows. This vehicle belonged to someone searching for their King and the King had not liked them. 

The human had gotten out first and Drake had drunk him dry before approaching the car. The vampire had tried to run but Drake's words had it opening the door and attempting to step out into the light. So not sand on the backseat but ash and dust.

"Let's not kill all the vampires on sight, okay?" he said, climbing into the driver's side of the vehicle. "I love your fierceness," he waited until Drake walked around to the other side and climbed in before finishing, "but some of them might be useful."

"They are tainted," Drake answered.

"And maybe they didn't chose this path," Hannibal countered, having started the car and was now trying to get the satellite nav system to get them somewhere. He finally just clicked the option to reverse the current trip and return them to the origination location. He remembered the visions the ziggurat had shown him; and he remembered Shaw's memories. "Or maybe you could erase the taint."

Hannibal was going to ignore the feeling that raced down his spine with that comment but didn't. "Or maybe I can," he theorized, putting the vehicle in drive. That comment felt right. After all he could see into a person more so than Drake.

"As you will it, Viden."

Hannibal rolled his eyes, he knew placating when he heard it. Drake wanted revenge, but Hannibal was going to make sure only the guilty were punished. He leaned over and kissed Drake. "I think we both know I'm going to get my way on this," he mused, putting his foot on the gas to get the vehicle moving. "Just try for me, okay?"

Then Hannibal thought to give an example. "What if one you would have chosen was injured or taken against their will and is now suffering in a half existence because she or he was still clinging to life, so to speak."

He saw Drake slump back somewhat in his seat. He didn't speak for some time. "Yes, I see your point," his soulmate finally admitted.

Hannibal just kept driving, but couldn't help that his lips quirked into a quick smile. 

Five hours later they were rolling into a what might have been an abandoned airfield. He drove the all terrain vehicle right into the belly of the plane that was parked there. The back ramp closed as soon as the vehicle cleared the hinges.

The rest happened very quickly. There had been five individuals on the plane. And now, with them aboard and two of the previous _employees_ dead, there were still five. One of the three human familiars one was dead. He had been a spy from another House, sent to keep tabs on the Talos. The remaining two humans were going to help them --though only one because it meant getting home and away from vampires; the other was doing it for a promised reward. Hannibal didn't think the man was going to like the reward but that was an issue for when they landed. 

Of the two vampires. Drake drank one dry. Hannibal hadn't known that was possible but the evidence now suggested otherwise. And apparently, they had thwarted the other vampire's attempt to take the plane and disappear. So, Hannibal had gotten what he wanted, a vampire who wanted out and was willing to try anything. He didn't want to call Asher a guinea pig, but the description was apt as Hannibal hadn't been sure his plan was going to work. 

Asher Talos was a tall, thin, blond haired man. He had been the first of his family born in the newly founded American colonies. He had not been born a Talos, his name at one point had been Ashton Marlowe. And Ashton had never wanted to be vampire; at least not at first. More than two hundred years ago he had caught the eye of the Talos Priest's most favorite priestess, an insane woman named Danica. When the Priest had refused her the right to Asher, she had murdered the priest in his sleep and took over the House. She had then terrorized the Marlowe family until Asher had traded himself for them. Hannibal knew, through his new abilities, that Danica had not honored the trade but Asher had only discovered that in the last decade. Danica had used him, turned him, treated him first as something less than a lover, and then called him brother after removing anyone who would know differently. This had been the first time he had been out of her sight since the discovery that she had killed his parents, brothers, and his pregnant wife.

If Hannibal's bones had made even half the popping and cracking noises that Asher's had then Hannibal was glad he had been submerged and mostly dead when his body had changed. He didn't believe Asher would become like he and Drake. Probably not even what Drake's soldiers were. No Asher had a touch of fey in him. You could see it in his eyes even through the taint; now though it was clear and shining. It was probably one of the things that had driven Danica to want the man; that and her sire refusing her wants.

Asher hadn't spoken a word since he'd had his reawakening; not that Hannibal could blame the other man. It was a lot to take in. When the plane landed at an abandoned airstrip outside of Budapest to refuel he gave Hannibal quite a fright. Asher finally turned to him as the rear ramp began to open and assured him, "If this doesn't work; at least this choice was mine and for that I have to thank you." He had then walked down the ramp and into the sun for the first time in two hundred years.

"Huh," and Hannibal didn't know who had said what or if they both simply verbalized the same thought. "It worked."

Hannibal released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when Asher had stepped off the ramp before either he or Drake could stop him. He was very much relieved the other man hadn't burst into flames. In the brief time since he had met the now not-quite-a-vampire he had learned that the other man was smart, organized, and sarcastic as hell. He was going to fit right in. Plus, he knew more about the old Priests than Shaw had. Apparently, Danica had kept the old papers and scrolls that had once belonged to her sire and never bothered to restrict Asher from them. And he had read everything he could.

Asher was a fount of information.

~~~***~~~

The first order of business after Asher hadn't burst into flames had been finding a place to hold up. This was where Asher's knowledge had come in handy. They took the House in Latveria. It was small and had isolated itself from the others. It helped that the Priest had gone mad some centuries before and infighting had reduced the membership by almost ninety percent. It had stayed out of the other eleven houses' way in hopes of being forgotten and left alone to once again grow under new leadership.

Drake had taken the entire House alone --human and vampire. Hannibal hadn't even gotten to try his skills. He'd had to remind Drake that he wasn't alone and that not everyone was an enemy. Drake had argued; Hannibal had corrected. The makeup sex after his and Drake's first argument had been spectacular. There was hope that they could just skip the argument next time and just get right to the makeup part.

Hannibal had asked, sometime between him not bursting into ash and the destruction of the first House, if Asher had wanted to go back to using Aston or even Marlowe, but the blond had admitted that after two hundred years, Asher was the name he knew. Asher, had then taken the two humans who had flown the plane and locked them away in another room. While he had taken himself away to an office and stayed out of the whole mess between Hannibal and Drake. But while _hiding_ in the office Asher had been busy moving money and opening new accounts. He even arranged transport and a lovely stipend for the human they were releasing. The other human proved to be untrustworthy and didn't survive.

Within days of taking the House, four of Drake's soldiers appeared --one with a soulmate and another who had looked at Asher as if the blond was a chocolate coffee donut treat all rolled up in a soulmate package. The soldier had given Asher his space after learning about Danica, but was always still close by.

After Latveria they skipped the House in London --being the second largest it would be missed if it suddenly disappeared. They wanted to pick off the smaller ones. 

They hit the one in the Ukraine next as Asher knew quite a bit about them as Danica had been trying to partner with the House to create human blood farms. What they had found in the lower levels of castle the House used as a home was sickening. Hannibal didn't need to touch the humans in the beds to know that they were caught on the cusp of death and yet not allowed to die as long as their bodies could produce more blood. There were notes about the possibility of using healthy humans and inducing comas to get years of ready-made blood.

Hannibal wasn't ashamed to say it. He did exactly what he'd yelled at Drake not to do. He'd ripped through the members of the Ukraine House like they were paperdolls. They burned the House and the castle --well, it exploded really-- down. There was nothing left.

The House in Hong Kong followed and then they went to Russia where Hannibal ran into the _daywalker_. Blade was not much of a talker and for a man with permanent vampire teeth, one would have thought he'd want a way out. But there had been no talking him down, only fighting.

In the end, Hannibal had let the _daywalker_ go; but Hannibal was sure they would be hunting him down soon. Only a few of the paths he could see for Blade looked promising and Hannibal had done what he could and offered the _daywalker_ a chance; now they had to wait and see.

The next several Houses fell easily as more of Drake's soldiers came to him. Some vampires were offered a second chance, while others ran. Those vampires would be hunted down later as few would find safe refuge. It was clear that word of the King's return had gotten out; Hannibal was sure it was Blade's doing.

They took the London House before going to the States. They arrived just in time for Drake to appear during the stage show that Deacon Frost was putting on. It seemed appropriate that the last son of the LaMagra should arrive for a ceremony that would supposedly draw the Blood King forth and answer all their wishes. Hannibal wasn't even upset that Drake had drunk both Frost and the old Priest dry. After all, that Priest had decided the fate of Drake's mother. 

Then it was just down to the House lead by Danica Talos. Damn the human hunters for their interference and for not actually checking Blade's claims. 

It could have been a bloodbath in more ways than one as they were staying in one of the most expensive hotels in the city. The hunters had attacked in the middle of the day. The curtains, and one balcony door, had even been open when the hunters had come in through the main door and floor to ceiling windows.

When the occupants in the room hadn't turned into fire and ash. The human hunters had been dumbfounded. Maybe saying, "Not vampires, you dumbasses," had been him speaking without thinking but a little recon on their part would not have been remiss. After all, everyone in the suite had been in and out of it during all times of the day.

Now he, they... Nope, definitely him, Drake did not seem to want to deal with the humans. He watched as his partner, his soulmate, walked into the suite's master bedroom --even with all the humans still pointing guns at him-- and slammed the door shut. Apparently dealing with the humans was his duty. So, his first thought had been right, now he had to deal with the band of merry little idiots and Blade. 

The band of idiots seemed to consist of three different leaders. He wasn't sure that was working for them; especially since two were father and daughter and estranged at that. The third was Blade himself. And they were all arguing. Hannibal waved off his soldiers --and somewhere along the way Drake's soldiers, had become his. They lowered their weapons, watching the show that was unfolding in front of them as if it was theater.

While the human hunter leadership continued their verbal debates, he looked around the room at the others who had come in. Two he dismissed as foot soldiers, they would do as they were told. One radiated geek and wanted the hell out of the room. He was only there because the hunters had needed another body. Then there was the tall, somewhat lanky guy probably a decade older than Hannibal pretending not to care as he leaned against the back wall while all the while projecting _I told them this was a bad idea._

Hannibal looked at the guy a little closer and a name came to him, Caulder. _Huh_ , he thought, _fey ancestry. And apparently, he now had some type of fey-dar. Awesome._ "Wish they'd listened to you now, dontcha?" he asked Caulder.

The man frowned when the other human hunters turned to look at him. Hannibal shrugged. "Look people," he said now that everyone's attention was refocused mainly on him. "We're not vampires; and you owe the hotel for the windows and the door."

He turned to look at Blade and the two who people kept calling Whistler. "A little recon on your part would have told you that. Hell, Blade could have told you that as we chatted, so to speak, in Russia. Or maybe, more to the point, he was there when we destroyed that House."

"Asher Talos is a vampire," the woman shouted.

Hannibal glanced over to where Asher was sitting, and bleeding. Why was he bleeding? "Asher," he asked, "have you been shot?"

"It's healing," was the only response he received.

"Honey," Hannibal turned back to the woman, though his thumb pointed over his shoulder, "the man is sitting in a chair in broad daylight. Want to re-evaluate your conclusion? Also, he works for me and soon you people will be out of a job anyway. Well, I guess you can wrangle your _daywalker_ there."

Blade huffed, ready to speak out or charge or something. Hannibal couldn't tell and at this point, didn't care. "Vampires are going the way of the dinosaur. Stay out of our way with Talos and then you can all retire. Maybe lead normal lives or not. That's totally up to you, but come after me and mine and there won't be a you anymore."

Blade moved to attack him but was brought to the ground by three of his people. Hannibal squatted down. "That mist inhaler crap they have you on," he imparted loud enough for the entire room to hear. "One day it will fail and you will need to decide between being human or vampire. There is no longer another option open to you."

"I'll kill all your kind too," Blade announced, struggling to break the hold of the soldiers.

Hannibal rolled his eyes and stood up and turned to the two Whistlers. "You need to do something with him," he advised, pointing down at Blade, "because he likes the killing. And, if there are no more vampires then who will he go after next? Humans? Plus, if he was a human, and killed as many people as he has vampires he'd be a serial killer. Whatever you do, he's your responsibility."

He waved off the three who were keeping Blade pinned and watched Whistler senior grab Blade by the arm. 

"It's time for your merry little band of hunters to leave. You can either all go out the door or through the window. I don't care, just get out." Hannibal moved to open one of the master bedroom's doors but paused before entering. "And remember," he warned, "stay away from the Talos House. By tomorrow morning they won't be an issue and you will be out of a job." 

He didn't wait to see what anyone said or did, just opened the bedroom door walked through.

~~~***~~~

Hannibal woke to an argument; no, more like a confrontation between Drake and Asher. They were both standing inside the double doors to the master bedroom of the hotel's Presidential Suite. "I was trying to sleep," he stated, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "No, Asher, I'm not letting you confront that bitch alone. Yes, Drake, it's his right to cut her head off. Both of you get out," he ended, flopping back onto the pillow.

He tossed his arm over his eyes to block out the fact that everyone else in their little party was standing just outside the wide open doors, not even trying to pretend to be doing other things. Hannibal guessed that if you had better than average hearing and had lived for a few centuries, why pretend around others of your kind. He tried to close his eyes but he could already sense the argument was about to start again.

Hannibal tossed the blankets aside and didn't bother to grab clothes. He got between Drake and Asher. He pushed Drake deeper into the bedroom and Asher out of it. "Everyone out of the suite for the next hour," he commanded, before slamming the doors shut.

Before the hour was up he was showered, dressed and sitting at the suite's dining room table eating breakfast and contemplating a third cup of coffee. Hannibal wasn't above using sex to calm Drake down; his soulmate still had a lot of pent up anger when it came to vampires and didn't always see the full picture. The human hunters earlier in the day had not helped matters, but hopefully they were out of their way for now. And once he had reminded Drake that Danica had destroyed Asher's family as much as the Priests had destroyed his, Drake had then shifted his anger from Asher to where it actually belonged, Danica.

Asher came through the main suite's door and stopped a few feet away. "They're ready and waiting," he said. "And about earlier."

Hannibal didn't let him finish. "I already know. You're getting used to being you again and you really want to see Danica turn to ash. I get it. And Asher, Drake might be King, but you're mine. That said, if you want to leave after all this is over. Discover who you are then you can. I'm not Danica."

Asher snorted. "No, you are definitely not."

"Awesome. Great talk. Let's get this started."

Hannibal watched Asher leave before turning to look at Drake who had come into the dining area. "He has been a person who couldn't make his own choices since he tried to save his family. Plus, he's mine. I corrected the taint that held him back."

Drake reached down and massaged Hannibal's shoulder. "Will he leave?" Drake questioned.

Hannibal shrugged. He hadn't looked at the paths to see what Asher would or wouldn't do. The man deserved a little privacy and peace.

"Now let's get this party started."

~~~***~~~

Danica Talos was a raving lunatic. The paths, Asher, everything he'd seen had told him that, but actually meeting the woman... holy shit, she was as loco as they came. Hannibal had to give Asher even more props for being as stable as he was.

They had made their way through the skyscraper that housed the Talos House without any issues. Well, the guards were really nothing and had either run, if they were human, or were dust if they had been vampire. When the elevator's doors opened on the penthouse level there had been quiet.

Everyone who noticed them arrive stayed quiet as Asher walked off the elevator followed by Drake and Hannibal and four of their soldiers. The remaining soldiers were going through the building floor by floor.

Hannibal was amazed that Danica didn't notice anything was off for almost a minute. But as soon as she had noticed Asher she had started yelling, berating, and ranting at him. Most of it didn't make sense. Some of it was about betrayal and running away and then it would change to her missing him and then circle right back. The ranting changed to something like gushing when she noticed Drake.

"Touch him," he finally warned as she took another step closer to Drake who was looking at the woman like she was a parasite of some of kind, "and I will cut off your hand."

Danica turned her gaze to him. "You, little human," she seethed. "You think you can threaten me?" She didn't wait for an answer before turning to look at Asher. "Is he your new pet, brother?"

Asher laughed. "You are so dense," his voice was filled with hatred. "How can you not see what is in front of you?" Asher stepped closer to his tormentor. "There is not one king, but two. One," he indicated Drake, "finds you distasteful and would turn you to dust with one swipe of his claws. The other," and here Asher pointed at him, "finds you laughable."

"How dare you," Danica started, "I will be Queen and then we will see."

"Oh," Hannibal commented, "I think she's cuckoo for cocoa puffs, Asher."

"I know you killed them, Danica," Asher calmly stated. "I know you turned my life into a living hell for a promise you didn't keep. You destroyed my life, but you won't do it to anyone else. The last House will fall with your death. The last of the Priests and their creations will die. I find you guilty of not honoring our true path." 

Asher didn't even wait and Danica had never noticed the sword he carried. One moment the last of the House of Talos was standing there and the next there was nothing but ash and dust."

Hannibal stepped up to Asher and took the sword from his still outstretched hand. "It's over," he said. And how he hoped that was true. He needed a break.

~~~***~~~

Hannibal fell on the bed. There was no grace or skill in the move. He simply got close enough and tipped forward until most of his body landed on the bed. Judging by the fact that his arm could touch the ground he'd just barely missed landing on the floor.

The last couple of months had been non-stop and now it was over. Or mostly over and was just beginning. He wasn't sure. He just needed a break for a few hours. The hunters had tried to raid the Talos building only to find dust. They hadn't really been heard from since. Three weeks later, and with no vampires to fight, Blade had lost it and was in cage somewhere being kept by the human hunters. They would clean that up if it got out of hand, but for now it was keeping the human hunters who hadn't gone back to regular lives something to so.

He'd learned that he was not quite as strong as Drake, but was faster and more flexible. His mental skills, his sixth sense had grown. It was like any skill, he had to learn and practice. He could read and process a person's life in mere seconds just by touching them now. He could sense thoughts and actions, especially those directed towards him or Drake. It came in handy while at the same time being slightly annoying. Especially when he caught someone picturing him and Drake in the bedroom.

Hannibal rolled over so that he could stare at the ceiling. Asher had adapted fairly quickly. He would never be physically stronger than either he or Drake, but Asher was highly organized and could move in and out of both worlds and the darkness quite smoothly. His new fey talents were a _lite_ version of Hannibal's in that, while Asher could read surface thoughts and feelings there was no download, so to speak. Hannibal had offered him the choice of staying with them or moving on. Asher had stayed. And, without peeking at the paths, Hannibal was positive Asher would soon be bonded to his soulmate.

Hannibal closed his eyes; not even bothering to open them as the bed dipped slightly and an arm wrapped around him, dragging him into a more comfortable position and embrace. He relaxed and let the last several months go, tomorrow would be here soon enough and he would deal with what came next then.

He had chosen to be more than flesh and bone by walking a path of darkness and shadow to find something he had not known he was missing. And at the end he had found something better than glitter and gold; he had found his true self, his love, and the knowledge that he would never walk his next paths alone. 

**~end~**


End file.
